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“You knowI’ve never held a baby before Ella, don’t you?”
Trish thrust her child into my reluctant arms as she bawled her head off. Sam barked along with her. He probably shouldn’t have been in the kitchen, but he panicked when I was too far out of his sight.
“Do we have earplugs anywhere?” I cringed. “This kid can be heard all the way in California. A friend of mine just called and confirmed it.”
Trish laughed. “She likes you.”
“You sure about that? It doesn’t seem like it.” I rocked Ella back and forth. “She tells that to everybody, doesn’t she?” She stopped crying for one second and actually did some sort of baby version of a giggle. Sam stopped barking. Then she went right back to it, wailing louder than ever. He looked at me like I should do something.What?I mouthed, completely out of my depth.
“No, I don’t,” Trish said defensively, oil from the pan popping as she sautéed a chicken breast. “Crap,” she said as it splattered on her T-shirt.
“When’s that going to be ready? I’m starving. I’ve barely been here a week, and I think I’ve put on five pounds.”
“Thanks for being my taste tester.” Trish’s enthusiasm for her food truck was infectious. I’d found myself eager to help her . . . which was new territory for me. But it wasn’t so bad.
I pinched the side of my stomach, a little flab between my fingers. “This is your fault,” I said accusingly over Ella’s cries. “Seriously, little lady; I know you want to be heard, but no one is going to like you if you scream all the time.” I didn’t mean a word of it. The crying was annoying, but I liked this baby better than any others I knew. Not that I knew any others.
“Mommy will always love you, baby girl.” Trish came over and kissed her child on the forehead.
“Not if you keep screaming,” I whispered.
“No matter what you do,” Trish assured her daughter.
“Is it really like that?” I asked, resting my rear against the counter as I tried to get Ella to settle.
“Is what like what?” Trish turned the chicken breasts. My mouth watered at the sight of the browning meat.
“Do moms really love their children unconditionally?” Ella stopped crying, as if she were as desperate to know the answer as I was. Trish’s eyes held more sympathy than I was prepared to face, as though she knew exactly why I was asking.
“I think so. I mean, I can’t speak for all mothers, but I can’t imagine Ella doing anything that would make me love her less. That’s not to say I wouldn’t be disappointed in her, but I can’t stop loving her. I just can’t.”
I swallowed hard, thinking about my own mother. She thought I worked on Wall Street for a prestigious firm and made a good, honest living. She bragged to all her friends about it, which prompted me to tell more lies. I wanted to give her the image she desired. Let her know she’d done a good job as a mother. That I was a daughter to be proud of. Shehadbeen a terrific mother. I was the one who was flawed. I couldn’t let her take the blame for my shortcomings, not when they weren’t her fault.
How could I keep secrets from someone who meant so much to me? She and my father had a decent marriage. It would do no good to tell her what he’d done and potentially destroy that. I didn’t hold it against him too much, but she would. There was no changing the past. And in this weird way, my life was as it should be. What would I be doing if I hadn’t fallen into this line of work? I’d only gotten my degree in architecture so I could join the family business. I had no interest in it otherwise.
I honored my mother by being anyone I wanted to be. Because I’d listened to her advice.
“Ella’s lucky to have you.”
Trish focused on cooking, as if she wasn’t used to compliments. “The privilege is all mine. You’ll see what I mean one day.”
I shook my head vehemently. “No way.”
“Don’t close the door on any possibilities. If I had, I wouldn’t be standing here, living my dreams.”
The woman was in a shelter for abused women, but she was the poster child for making lemonade out of lemons. I admired her strength, her ability as a mother. If I wanted something different for my life, I’d have to be like Trish.
“Sonya, may I see you in my office?” Mrs. Quinn broke in. She looked serious.
The back of my neck tingled, and I grabbed it in a nervous gesture before smiling brightly. “Of course. Let me finish up here with Trish.”
“Now.”
Well, hell. This couldn’t be good.
I placed Ella gently back in her bassinet. My lips found her forehead. “You trust your mommy. She’s a good lady,” I whispered.
Mrs. Quinn marched aheadof me up to her second-floor office. I respected her. She was here for one reason only: the women and kids who came here because they had nowhere else to turn. She did whatever was necessary to help and protect them. No task was beneath her. She was a kind woman, but not a pushover.
